


Finding Home

by jdjunkie



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Episode Related, Episode Tag, Episode: s01e12 Fire and Water, Friendship, Gen, Team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-19
Updated: 2013-04-19
Packaged: 2017-12-08 22:29:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/766758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdjunkie/pseuds/jdjunkie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His life had been stuffed into boxes and now he had to unpack them all, one by one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finding Home

Daniel stared at the boxes piled neatly in the corner of the living room. They were stacked with the kind of military precision that put his teeth on edge and made him want to grow his hair even longer. Passing them by, he opened a window and let the cool, night air sweep away the closed-in fustiness that was threatening to set off his allergies.

He cracked a huge yawn. He’d used every trick in the book, from eyelash-batting to sullen silence, to get himself discharged from the infirmary and none of them had worked. They never did, if he was honest. He not only had to get past Janet but Jack, Teal’c and Sam as well. It was damned near impossible. So, he’d sucked it up and endured card games with Jack and base gossip with Sam and a surprisingly well-informed Teal’c.

He could never sleep amid the regular comings and goings of the infirmary and, when two members of SG-5 were admitted after an off-world rock fall, Daniel saw his chance.

_“I’m fine, Janet. Really. I just need to be home and sleeping in my own bed.”_

He'd eventually got his way, and here he stood amid the results of his team's efforts to parcel up his life.  
  
They really had thought he was dead. They’d held a memorial service, a wake and packed up his apartment. It was all very sobering and sure to make his resume a very interesting read. _“Joined top-secret Government project, fully utilized many of my existing skills and added several new ones, chief among them the ability to bounce right back when all around thought I was dead.”_

Daniel ran a hand across his forehead as he contemplated the enormity of the task before him. Nem’s brain-sucking device had left him with a doozey of a headache he had somehow managed to forget to tell Fraiser about. Despite the constant dull thudding, he started unpacking the box on top of the pile. It contained some archaeology books, a guide to fish-keeping, a pair of brass candlesticks and a set of antique knives and forks Sam had given him as a house-warming gift. An eclectic selection. It made him smile.  Then it made him sigh. The work ahead of him was daunting. His life had been stuffed into boxes and now he had to unpack them all, one by one.

He liked this apartment. It was the first place he’d liked since the college-days apartment he’d briefly shared with Robert Rothman. It was light and airy and peaceful. His only regret was it didn’t have space for his grand piano. It was a family heirloom, originally bought by Nick’s father. It had been in storage more than it had been in places he’d lived – he usually didn’t have the room. He rarely played, although he was actually quite proficient. Music was another form of language, and he loved languages. He loved the link with his family history more. He had so little of that to hang onto.

When he’d found this place, after staying in temp quarters on base and occasionally at Jack’s, he’d finally been able to put his mark on somewhere and it was starting to feel like home. Here, he was surrounded by the bits and pieces he loved, from artefacts to books and his beloved fish.

And, he’d come to realize, he was surrounded by people he was growing to love.  A new family.

Jack had hugged him when he’d handed back his journals after dropping him off at the apartment an hour ago.

“I kept them safe,” he said, looking faintly embarrassed.

“What were you going to do with them?” Daniel asked, curious and surprisingly moved.

“There was talk of starting a museum or something. I thought I’d hang on to them til you came back.”

“But ... everyone thought I was dead.”

They did. Jack said kind words at his memorial service in the Gateroom, Sam had told him all about it during that interminable twenty-four hours in the infirmary.

“Nah. Knew you’d be back. Never doubted it for a second.” There was glint in his eyes and a half-smile on his lips.

Daniel knew Jack was talking nonsense. It was just his way of saying how much he’d missed Daniel and how glad he was to have him back without actually having to say the words. Daniel could live with that, just like he could live with Sam squeezing his hand and throwing anxious glances his way all the time and Teal’c standing sentinel while he tried to rest in the infirmary, even though he was perfectly safe.

They’d all been willing to provide pizza and beer and manpower to help him unpack the boxes but he’d declined. It was enough that they’d offered. He just wanted the quiet of his own space for a while. It wasn’t every day you came back from the dead.

Smiling to himself, he placed the candlesticks on the bookshelf and started putting his apartment back together again.

 

ends


End file.
